Leaving Them
by Stuffedolive92
Summary: Follows the story of Ron Weasley after he left Harry and Hermione in the forest, book 7, the time he spent at Shell Cottage and the reasons to which he returned.A deep emotional insight into the character of Ron and his feelings for Hermione. How has Ron felt about his friends close relationship? Could he see a life without Hermione? This story gets into Ron's head. Please REVIEW!


"Ron, no-please-come back, come back!" he heard Hermione call as he threw his ruck sack on stormed out of the tent. It was raining heavily and the forest had been reduced to a blur around him, but still he charged forward, fighting his way through branches and bushes. He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going all he knew was that he had to get away from the two of them, especially Harry. His felt hate swell within his chest when he thought of him; that messy black hair, those ridiculous glasses and that bloody scar which made him think he was the king of everyone. Ron struck out at a low lying tree spruce in his anger and tramped on, just when he heard Hermione again, this time a short way off.

Immediately he felt his heart sink at the sound of her voice and he slowed, turning around to see where she was. Yards away, Hermione was stumbling blindly between the trees, her lit wand useless for visibility against the pelting rain.

"Ron," she sobbed, blinking back the water in her eyes. "Ron…please don't go! Ron, please…"

He frowned, there was a part of him that wanted to go her, pull her into his arms and tell her it was alright.

"Please Ron…where are you? I want to talk…" she pleaded; he could hear the tears in her voice. "Ron…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

As soon as she said that, the sudden empathy he had for her disappeared as quick as it'd come and was now replaced with pure rage, as a twisted image of her and Harry together formed in his mind.

"No you're not," he spluttered and with one last glance at her, he waved his wand and Disapparated.

Ron held his breathe as darkness shrouded his eyes and the painful sensation of his body shrinking and splitting apart had passed just as he felt his feet hit hard ground. Stumbling forward, he found himself in the deserted street of a town, where the rain had stopped but dark storm clouds had started to roll in. He stood there dumbfound for a second, unsure of why he was here and why his clothes were soaked, but when felt the weight of the rucksack on his back the memory of what had happened a few moments before came rushing back horribly. The way he'd shouted at Harry for making their quest fruitless and called him insensitive and selfish. And then there was Hermione; brilliant, bright and beautiful Hermione who he'd messed up his chances with by rejecting in the woods even when she wanted him back, apologising for something she hadn't done. He felt a pain on the left of his chest and covered it with his hand; he'd made a horrible mistake, he had to go back and make everything right before he lost a person that he loved and another that he was in love with.

"Hey, you there!" said a rough voice and he looked up to see five men, approaching him, their wands drawn and their faces eager.

Ron backed away and turned around; walking as fast as he could up the empty street, hoping that they'd confused him for another. It didn't occur to him at this point, that he had a wand in his hand and that he could've put it to good use.

"Got ya!" said the voice and he felt one of them seize him by the neck and whip him around to face the others. "Look what I've got here boys!"

The other four men leered at him and as they drew closer he saw that all of them were dishevelled and wearing shabby clothes. They were Snatchers.

Gritting his teeth Ron tried to raise his wand arm, but one of the four, a tall broad man who resembled a troll, wrenched it off him.

"Naughty, naughty," the Snatcher holding him said, clicking his tongue. "Where are your manners? Don't you know it's rude to curse strangers? Don't they teach you that at school?"

Ron struggled. "I don't go to school."

All of the Snatchers laughed, especially the one who'd taken his wand, who let out more of a grunt.

"I've heard that plenty of times ginger and believe me, lying's the last thing you want to do cos' the Ministry'll be happy to see you."

There was sickening relish in his voice and Ron knew that Pius Thicknesse was still giving out big galleons for these kinds of raids.

"So, what's your name?"

Ron's mind went blank and he thought of the first words that came to his.

"S-Stan. Stan Shunpike."

There was sudden silence and suddenly he saw the Snatchers excited faces fall to expressions of confusion.

"Stan Shunpike?" said the man holding him. "You sure about that?"

Ron nodded vigorously. "Y-yes that's me."

"Can't be."

"No…Stan Shunpike, that's me," he reaffirmed, knowing his quavering voice would soon give him away.

"He's Stan Shunpike?" said the Snatcher, gesturing to him. "You lads think he is? Have a look."

All focus was on Ron and he kept still as their eyes probed his features.

"That's Stan," said the tall troll Snatcher, using Ron's wand to scratch his head. "Yeah that's him."

"Not it ain't you great oaf," said another man, who was at least a third of his size and had only but a few front teeth. "I know Stan and he ain't got red 'air."

"He is Stan!" exclaimed the troll man, stepping forward. "I've seen him…I caught his purple bus, you remember me Stan don't you?"

He looked dopily at Ron who nodded again. "Er…yeah I remember you."

"It ain't him, I told ya! Stan's bin' doin' work for the Dark Lord, why the hell would he be all the way out 'ere you blitherin' fool, you ain't got no more brains than a troll!"

This made the troll man snap and suddenly there was a flurry of fists between the two of them and the surrounding Snatchers lunged forward to separate them.

"Don't call me that!"

"Well, that's what you are!"

In that split second, Ron felt the grip of the Snatcher behind him slacken and knowing that he was distracted, he seized the chance and elbowed him in the stomach.

"Uggh!" wheezed the man, doubling over and Ron ran forward, darting the others so that he could make a break for it, but then remembered his wand. Halting, he eyed the throng of fighting Snatchers warily and saw that the troll man was now getting to his feet and was about to hex his smaller opponent; Ron's wand in his casting hand and his own in his left. Dashing towards him, Ron hit the troll man across the neck so that he gasped, clutching his throat. As this Snatcher tumbled over, he saw that the others had now caught sight of him and were now drawing their own wands. Seizing his own and then the troll man's, he straightened up and cried "Stupefy," the force of two wands blasting three Snatchers clean off their feet. With no looking back, he sprinted for the cover of an alley, curses flying over his head just as he held the picture of the muddy river bank and tent within his head and felt himself dissolve into the painful darkness.

"Aggh! Bloody hell!" he hissed as he suddenly materialised and staggered a little, his hand burning in pain. Looking down at it, he saw that he'd been Splinched in his hurry, two of the fingernails on his right hand having been stripped off clean so that only two red stubs remained. Blood was dripping down his wand and he wiped it as he looked up and finally got his bearings. It was early morning and the sun had begun to creep up behind the mountains, bathing the forest ahead of him in auburn light. But this landscape seemed unfamiliar to him, he must be miles away from his destination because he'd gotten his Disapparation method wrong, hence his Splinching.

"Dammit!" he growled and in his frustration, he jogged down to the forest and followed it, run as far as his legs could carry him, which was a considerable way surprisingly, before he became puffed out. Bracing his knees and panting, Ron decided that running all the way was ridiculous, so standing up he thought of the river bank: Destination, his anxiety to get there: Determination and then flicked his wand and moved slightly: Deliberation and once again Disapparated.

He Apparated somewhere close this time and hearing the gushing of water he registered that he was here; at the sight where he'd stormed out on Harry and Hermione. Feeling a rush of excitement, he sprinted towards the woods, crashing through the trees and bushes as he tried to find the clearing where they'd camped. He knew that he should've been quieter, but he couldn't supress the anticipation of finding them; of bursting into the tent and telling them that he was there, that he was sorry and that leaving them was a mistake. He thought about them looking up at him in surprise and shock; Harry getting to his feet and giving him a hug, then clapping him on the back and then Hermione would rush up to him and throw her arms around his neck. He didn't think of it as a hero's return but more like a greeting of sheer relief and happiness. Harry would punch it off as a joke, because he knew Ron wasn't one to keep his word and Hermione would be wary but over joyed that he'd come back and that the three of them were together again. He never wanted to leave them, but in the heat of the moment when he wasn't his complete self, he knew they'd thought it was his intention.

Ron burst through the bushes and out into the clearing where he expected to be repelled by one of Hermione's protective charms, but instead stumbled into an empty campsite with no trace of human, animal or even magical presence. He felt his heart sink-he'd missed them, they had left and hadn't waited for him; maybe they did think he'd be gone for good. Ron's brain was numb as he paced a wide circle around the campsite, his wand hanging limp in his hand as he came to stand on the slight scuff mark of where the tent would have been. Harry and Hermione would have walked here a few hours before him and now all that what was left of them was nothing but some disturbed leaves. But to his sad surprise, he also spotted a lone wrapper of a chocolate frog that he'd found in one of the tents side pouches and they had shared as a delicacy. Picking it up slowly, he wiped the tear that swelled in his eye and pocketed it, coming to sit on a fallen tree. He sat there for twelve hours, waiting, staring at the spot where he was sure they would Apparate.

At times, he found himself falling asleep only to be woken by the snapping of a twig, or the creaking of a tree branch against the slightest breeze. Each occasion brought him a spurt of excitement which was only to be dampened by the realisation that they weren't there. It was only when the sun began to dissolve behind the trees that it finally sunk in that they weren't coming, so standing up in anguish; he hefted his rucksack onto his back. The question that formed in his mind was, where he was he going to go now? He couldn't go home, his parents and siblings would ask too many questions and even if he did tell them and they accepted, he'd always be known as the Weasley that'd deserted his friends. So he decided there was only one place left to go and he wasn't sure how its residents would receive him either. So with one last desperate glance at the camp site, he Dispparated, the word Shell Cottage on his mind.

As soon as he landed, Ron felt his feet sink into soft sand and looking up, he saw that he was on a windswept beach, waves breaking along the shore line which rose to sand dunes that were surrounded by large towering cliffs. In the distance, he could see the high pitched roof of a house poking out from behind some hills and headed towards it. It was a gruelling walk, but as he neared the residence, a tall man with shoulder length red hair and jagged scars across his face, rose up from behind a white picket fence, his hands dirty from working in the garden. He whistled as he wiped them on his shirt, his eyes wide when he finally saw his brother.

"Ron?" Bill said incredulously, squinting against the sun. "Ron, is that you?"

Ron inhaled and nodded, as his brother, jumped the fence and ran over to him and gave him into a bear like hug.

"What are you doing here?" he said, pulling him out at arm's length. "Where're the others, Harry and Hermione?"

Ron didn't say anything and catching sight of his rucksack, Bill's face fell.

"Let's get you inside," his said quietly and looking back at the house he yelled. "Fleur, honey! Come out here please!"

Bill put an arm around his pale brother cautiously, just as the slim figure of Fleur appeared about ten metres off.

She, instead of wearing elegant clothes, was dressed in an apron, several cooking utensils sticking out from her front pockets.

"Bill? What is ze' matter?" she said in her thick accent and then paused. "Who is zis' with you? Oh-is zat…Ron!"

Staring at him, she covered her mouth with her hand, before rushing over and pulling him into a hug.

"Ron," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "It is you! Is it reeally you! Why are you here? Where are your friends?"

Ron felt Bill's grip around his shoulders tighten.

"I think we'll find that out later honey," he said, his voice concerned. "Let's just get him inside…he's all dirty and looks half starved."

He felt his brother slip his ruck sack off and pull it over his own shoulder as the two of them lead him to the house. It was two storeys and made of stone with shells imbedded in the front façade. Inside, it was just a quaint with a dining room to which Bill took him to and sat him down at a wooden table. Fleur had disappeared into the connecting kitchen and returned with a plate and cutlery, that suddenly started filling itself with food before him. Ron watched as Bill, came to sit down opposite him, his face anxious as he deliberated how to approach his brother's sudden appearance.

"Ron," he said quietly, leaning forwards. "What happened?"

But he said nothing, he couldn't, he felt numb inside.

Bill stared at him for a second, before turning to Fleur who was standing at the head of the table.

"I think he's in shock Fleur," he said, his expression confused. "H-he's not speaking…at all."

"Or eating," she added, frowning slightly at the untouched food.

Ron felt so strange: he could hear absolutely everything they were saying and wanted to reply, he really did, because he felt horrible for intruding on their sheltered lives like this. But the thing was he just couldn't speak; his body had disconnected itself from the control of his brain, so he just sat there useless.

"What shall we do, Bill?" Fleur whispered, glancing at his still form.

"I dunno," he swallowed. "I've never him act like this…or anyone. I think we should just put him up in one of the rooms."

"Do you theenk 'e is under ze' Imperius curse?"

"No," said Bill, his eyes falling to Ron's bloodied fingers. "He would be saying things if he was, plus he's got all of his things here, obviously something's happened and he's left Harry and Hermione. I think he's Apparated here…I mean, look at his nails."

As soon as he mentioned their names, Ron could feel hot tears filling his eyes.

"I'll get him into bed," said Bill standing up. "He looks exhausted. We'll try asking him tomorrow morning when he's recovered a bit. Come on mate."

Ron felt, his brother help him up and then lead him towards a staircase, which with some difficulty they managed to climb. On the second floor, Bill directed him to a small pale blue room, which comprised of a single wrought iron bed, a small window that overlooked the dunes and garden and an empty fire place.

Taking him to the bed, Bill helped Ron up and even took off his muddied shoes and wet jacket, before pulling the sheets and blanket on him.

"You can sleep here tonight," he said, going over to the window and yanking the curtains shut. "Alright? Just try and get some sleep, I'll spare you the questions for today. But don't think you won't have some explaining to do tomorrow; you better have a good story."

Ron nodded, the first time he'd really responded to them and closed his eyes. The emotion was rising up like a torrent within him after the mention of his friends and all he wanted to do was be left alone.

Bill gave him one more concerned look and stopped at the side of his bed before he left.

"I'll leave you," he murmured, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder warily. "If you need anything, Fleur and are just next door."

And with that, he departed and closed the door quietly behind him, to which Ron, unable to hold it in anymore, burst into tears and collapsed onto his mattress.

"Oh god," he sobbed, into the sheets. "O-Oh, god."

He felt like he could say it over and over again. And he did, until the whole of the fabric beneath his face was dampened by his own tears, his breathe broken by shudders and giving up, he fell asleep where every pressing matter, even this one, seemed to be that of oblivion.

The next morning, Ron woke to the sun on his face, which was filtering through a crack in the curtains. Squinting, he moved out of the glare and lay there on his back, taking a few moments to come to terms with where he was. Sitting up, he felt very light as if he were in a dream but the only thing that bought him down to earth was the fact that he was dressed in the same soiled clothes that he'd arrived in and was immediately plunged into his depression again. Slumping back down on the mattress, he remembered what Bill has said to him the night before, '…don't think you won't have some explaining to do tomorrow; you better have a good story,' and groaned, it was going to take effort to get out of bed today. Suddenly there was a soft knock on the door and opening slightly, he saw Fleur standing in a dressing gown, looking stunning as usual even though she wasn't wearing makeup and her long hair was unkempt.

"Sorry to bozzer you," she said quietly, "but I came to see 'ow you were feeling."

Ron pulled himself into an upright position. "I'm alright," he croaked, surprised what his voice sounded like after a day of silence.

Fleur smiled. "That is good. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Ah yeah," he said. "That'd be good. Really good."

"Perfect," she replied. "Well I will see you down stairs soon then. You are welcome to use the bathroom eet is in the next room. You must want to get cleaned up. I have washed the clothes in your bag and left them outside the door."

"Thanks," said Ron, from what he could remember, he hadn't had a shower in a week and was sure his scent along with his appearance was showing it.

Fleur left the door open and he heard her float down the stairs, before he had the motivation to get out of bed. Standing up, he stretched, listening to all of his bones and joints popping and noticing sore points that he hadn't before, which seemed to be all over his body. Walking out, he found a pile of his ironed clothes sitting on the floor and took what was on the top, before heading off to the bathroom. Inside he saw that it was tiny and powder blue like his room, with a shower, toilet and small sink cramped into the size of a broom closet and it didn't even have one of those extendable charms on it. Turning on the taps, he blasted the hot water until the room was completely steamy before undressing and getting in.

With the water running over him, all of his muscles seemed to loosen and for once he had some piece of mind; it was funny how a bit of heated water could do that. Looking down at his body, he saw how completely dirty he was and started to scrub himself, on the arms, legs, face, everywhere and thoroughly as if he were trying to wash off the guilt that riddled him. He did this until his skin was red and raw and then stepped out of the shower and dried himself. Leaning over the sink, he wiped the mirror clean and looked at himself in the reflection, tracing his dampened red hair which was long and tangled, the auburn stubble which crept up the side of his jaw, the hollowness in his freckled cheeks and the way the blue in his eyes had seemed to fade a little. He had gotten older and not a year or so, but at least five. Within twelve months he's aged so much that he was, to some extent, unable to recognise himself, but in the end he had to admit, it was the price of war that he was paying.

Getting dressed, he headed down stairs and found Fleur and Bill laying down all sorts of food on the table; toast, bacon, kippers, eggs and sausages on the table, the smells immediately making his stomach grumble.

"Morning Ron," said Bill, flashing him a smile, as he placed a jug of pumpkin juice down. "Have a good sleep?"

Ron stared at him for a second, the sinking feeling of fessing up to him making his hunger die.

"Er…yeah, I slept well."

"Great, well I hope you're hungry."

"I hope so too."

Sitting down, he hesitated before helping himself to eggs and sausages which suddenly had seemed to lose their appeal. The three of them ate in silence, the sound of the crashing waves from the beach deafening, it was so quiet. When they'd finished, Ron offered to help clean up because he wanted to delay his confrontation with Bill that little longer, but was irritated when Fleur said she had it under control.

"Etz ok, Ron," she said, trying the apron around her slender waist. "You and Bill go a 'ead."

"Thanks," said Bill, kissing her on the lips and he lingered there for a while, making Ron look away, feeling strangely jealous. Not because it was Fleur he was kissing and she was Ron's past crush years ago, but the fact that his brother had someone that he didn't. He thought of Hermione for a second and how they'd been working towards a relationship, they seemed so close to it but he'd always bought it down, because he was always ten steps behind in the emotions department. And now having left her, he doubted whether she'd want him back. He'd lost his first love and it hurt, so much that he thought his heart was going to give up then and there.

"You alright Ron?" asked Bill, looking at his hand on his chest. "You look like you're in pain."

"Ah yeah," he replied, immediately dropping his arm. "Just got some heart burn…ate too fast, I think."

Bill laughed at this. "Well you always did have an appetite." His face then turned serious. "Should we go then, have our chat?"

Ron felt the sudden sensation to run away, but his guilt seemed to weigh him down. Following Bill, they went into the living room which was separated by partitions and which to his dread, his brother closed.

"Take a seat," said Bill, gesturing to sofa opposite him and Ron sat, feeling like he was being calling in under the presence of a Professor at Hogwarts.

"So?" he said, rubbing his hands. "What happened to Harry and Hermione? Why are you back?"

Ron could hear his heart pulsing in his ears.

"It's a long story," he said, hanging his head. "And it's complicated."

"I've got time," said Bill. "Plenty of it."

He seemed honest in his expression and Ron guessed that from the scars on his face, nothing seemed 'complicated' to him anymore.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and looked away.

"We had a fight," he said and then paused. "And I left them."

He stared at his brother, expecting him to look at him in disgust, but instead Bill's expression remained vacant.

"I thought something like that happened," he said quietly. "That's the only reason you'd come running back, if you guys started to break up. So…are you going to tell me why?"

He sighed. "Like I said, it's a long story and hard to understan-"

"Try me."

Ron hated how he was testing him like this and licking his parched lips, he continued.

"Fine, well before we left to go on the quest, we found out that Voldemort had broken his soul into little pieces, their called-"

"Horcruxes," he said. "I know what they are and what they do."

"Right," Ron said his voice quavering slightly and he clenched his fist to hold back his anger. "Thanks for the heads up. So…the three of us are searching for these Horcruxes and there's seven of them apparently, which gives Voldemort the advantage, because he can resurrect himself through them. Two of them have already been destroyed, including that diary Ginny had, so that left us with five to hunt down.

"The thing is, over the past months we've managed to find the third Horcrux, a locket…one of the Ministry heads had it, but we managed to get it."

"What?" said Bill incredulously. "You penetrated Ministry security? A-are you serious?"

Ron shrugged, but refrained from showing that he was actually smug. "Amazing what some Poly juice potion and Puking Pastels can do."

"Ok," said his brother, shaking his head. "I'm not even going to ask how, but keep going."

"Anyway, so we've got this locket and we couldn't even destroy it, because there's only certain ways you can and that made all of us angry because we were so close to killing it. But the thing that really ate at us was that we didn't have any idea where the other ones were. It was like we were going around in circles, there was no progress. We were relying on clues that Dumbledore left Harry. So we started to doubt the whole point of the quest, well Hermione and I…," he stopped, "maybe just me, started doubting Harry in the end too."

Bill closed his eyes. "So that's why you left them? Because you gave up and said everything was pointless?"

Ron opened his mouth to protest and then closed it.

"Not so much," he said. "Well, I did do something like that."

He caught sight of Bill's frown. "But it was because I was wearing the Horcrux!"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"It got loads," Ron said defending himself. "We took it in turns to wear it for safe keeping and when it came to me…the Horcrux had this effect on me, like it was messing around with my head. It affected the others too, made them grumpy and lousy to be around, but with me it was ten times worse. I remember I used to get really paranoid and would complain about everything. It was like it controlled everything I felt and knew everything I was thinking. It would manipulate me."

He buried face in his hands and could see Bill on the edge of his seat, waiting for his response.

"What are you saying exactly?"

Ron breathed. "The night of the fight, I was wearing the locket."

"Oh god."

"It made every feeling I had worse. And that night in particular… I was thinking about how we weren't getting anywhere and how they were leaving me out of all their plans," he looked helplessly at his brother, "I couldn't keep it in! So…I ended up giving them a piece of my mind."

"No…"

"I said that the whole quest was pointless and then blamed Harry-I didn't know what I was thinking-then I grabbed my stuff, took the locket off and walked out. Hermione was calling after me, telling me to come back, but I was so just angry and just Disapparated."

Bill rubbed his face, wearily. "So…where did you go?"

"Wound up in some town, it was late in the night and then all my anger was gone because the locket had started to wear off. I remember feeling really guilty and bad about what happened so I tried to Disapparate back but I got caught up when some Snatchers found me."

"Snatchers?"

"Yeah…tried to take me away but I managed to get away when they started a fight and were distracted. So I ran for it and Disapparated back to our camp, it took two attempts at first. When I got there, I couldn't find them. They'd left," he felt his stomach restrict like a fist. "I felt like such a prat for doing what I did, so I stayed there for the whole day waiting for them to come back. I wanted to apologise and hope they'd take me back, but they didn't come, so I figured-"

"You'd come here," sighed Bill, sitting back on the sofa. "Come back to a normal life."

He nodded and hung his head. "I'm such an idiot," he murmured into his hands, "such an idiot for leaving and even coming here. I'm sorry."

He refused to look at his brother because he was so ashamed.

"Well," said Bill breaking the silence. "I can't say I'm impressed or even that I'm angry. What you did _was_ stupid and I would have expected more of you…but then again you weren't yourself were you?"

Ron looked up at him and nodded. Sometimes Bill, had this commanding authority which was more like a parent than a sibling.

"So," he swallowed. "Are you going to tell mum and dad?"

To his surprise, Bill laughed.

"Of course not," he snorted. "Why would I do that? You can only imagine what they'd do, they'd go up the wall."

"So what's going to happen then?"

His brother shrugged. "It depends…what do you want to do?"

Ron breathed and looked him straight in the eye. "I want to go back to Harry and Hermione…I want to apologise and help them."

"Right," he murmured. "And do you know where they are?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't even have an idea how I can get in contact either. I was thinking…you might have some idea?"

"Me?" said Bill, frowning. "Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "Just because you're better at magic, I suppose."

Ron felt really pathetic at this point, all this time he'd been battling the Dark Lord and dealing with the darkest of magic, yet when it came to something like communicating with someone, his brain was absolutely dead. Bill must've thought he was a twat, then again in his defence, he could say it was Hermione who'd done all of the complex magic during their journey.

Bill sighed and folded her arms, frowning. "I dunno Ron… I don't think there's away, not from my experiences that for sure. You can't use an owl; because you have no address…maybe you could try a Patronus charm! You know, where you send a message?"

Ron sat up, suddenly excited. "That could work…but I've haven't done it before."

"Neither have I," admitted Bill and all of the joy that had filled the room before, suddenly evaporated like a hundred Dementors had entered it. Ron suddenly felt the sensation of regret and failure creep up within him and he knew that there was no hope now.

"Don't give up," said Bill, noticing his stricken face. "Something could happen…they could get in contact with _you_."

"I doubt that."

There was silence and then his brother got to his feet and opened the partition doors.

"Well," he said with a pause. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. Christmas is always better with an extra person to celebrate."

The festive day was only two weeks away and he couldn't even fathom how he was going to get through them.

"It might be New Year's too," Ron said flatly and rising from the sofa, he walked out of the room.

Over the next few days, Ron did his best to hide his feelings from Bill and Fleur, just because he was their guest and showing any emotions that countered this, he thought, would be an insult to them. Even worse, he didn't want to burden them with his problems, seeing as it was their private life that he'd intruded on. Bill however, could sense that his sadness, so he organised the two of them to do activities on the beach which he ensured Ron, would take his mind off everything. A lot of them strangely, included muggle hobbies, which he guessed his brother had chosen deliberately because their complexity and intrigue would add to him forgetting the past.

The activites including; 'Sand surfing' a strange thing, where Ron would have to get a piece of old carpet, take it to the top of a dune and slide down on it. Bill loved doing it and he had to admit, it had its thrills after about the third attempt. But when he kept getting sand in his eyes, he knew it was time to move on.

The next hobby was something called 'Fishing' where he'd hold a stick with some string attached to it and a hook and wait for fish to catch onto it. This was another of Bill's favourites, because he said you could just stand there and watch the ocean whilst waiting for food to come to you. But Ron however found it a waste of time thinking of how he could just say 'Accio fish,' and then the dinner would_ literally_ come to him.

One thing he did like though, was swimming because the ocean made it that much more exciting. He loved the way the waves would pummel him when he dove in and the way the salt would burn his eyes as he swam under. There was something refreshing about it, the way it seemed to cleanse him of his problems and the fact that he had to concentrate on a lot of things, like his swimming technique and not getting dumped. In fact, he liked it so much; he would stay out there for hours, until Bill called him in for lunch or dinner.

Swimming seemed to make the days go faster for him, seeing as he was would come out exhausted and sleep to compensate for energy. But despite his new pastime, he still found his memory becoming drawn to his friends and what they were doing, as it was hard to enjoy himself when truly he knew they weren't.

He still had no idea if they were alive and had no way of contacting them either, which meant that he was even more anxious wondering if they were Ok or among the list of dead that the Quibbler reported. If only he had a way that he could be informed twenty four hours of the day. Luckily for him, the answer to this came when he laid eyes on the old enchanted radio that was sitting in Bill's study room.

Taking it eagerly, he snuck off up to his room and sat on his bed tuning it, as he tried to find the stations that were against the Ministry. The majority however supported it, seeing as Death Eaters had completely taken over all of the magical media. After many attempts, he did manage to find one channel that wasn't as aggressive as others and did a once a day death count of muggles who'd been killed and magical folk who'd been captured and were now under Ministry investigation.

He sat there for hours, his ear to the radio, determined to hear any news related to Harry or Hermione, until Bill suddenly walked in.

"Ahh sorry," he said, backing out, but then caught sight of his radio. "Hey isn't that mine?"

Ron froze and placed it down cautiously on the bed spread. "Ah…yeah, I took it from your study…I hope that's Ok."

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "You can use it, it's practically ancient."

"Cool," he said and started to tune it until he could the familiar voice of the witch who was now reporting new policies that the Ministry was putting into place.

"You know, I don't know why you listen to that channel all the time for news, its complete rubbish," he said suddenly.

Ron, forgetting that was still there looked up and saw that he was now leaning over and scrutinizing the number the needle was on.

"I know a better one," he said, walking over and fiddling with the dial. "Something that's not biased and gives you all the details for our side," he smiled to himself, "and you won't believe who's broadcasting it."

"Who?"

He turned it a couple of times and then fixed it on one spot where it sounded like there wasn't any reception, just crackling.

"Hedwig," he muttered, tapping the top of the radio with his wand.

"Hedwig?" asked Ron, dumbly. "What do you mean? She can't be-"

"Shh."

He tapped it another time and then suddenly two voices came across the waves, clear and defined.

"That should do it," he said, stowing his wand away. "Just listen, for a second."

'….good morning everyone and thanks for listening in today, my name is River.'

He'd heard that voice before but never this quiet; usually it was being boomed over a loud speaker during Quidditch.

"That's Lee Jordan!"

Bill smiled, but kept a finger to his lip.

'…I'll be bringing you the dirt on everything; from potential Death Eater raid points to what's happening in Hogwarts, so stick around. But now, I'll be talking to some of our closest friends and allies, Rodent. Say Hi, Rodent.'

'Hiya listeners,' Ron let out a laugh of amazement, it was his brother Fred talking or maybe George he didn't know, but it was a breath of fresh air hearing their voices after so long.

'Now, I'm not going to muck around, usually I can only do that with my other accomplice who'll be featuring on tomorrow's program, so I'm going to start off with the death count. First Wizarding then Muggle.'

Bill and Ron went silent, especially him as he strained him ears listening for Hermione or Harry's name, the whole process was agonising.

'Blake Sutherman and Edgar Dally, Lucy Birkwell and her partner Jason Ridley, that is all of the death notices for Wizarding today,' said Fred, his voice full of sadness. 'And again we send out condolences out to all of those who have lost friends and family because of this slaughter.'

Ron found it strange that his brother of all people would be reading out something so daunting, it seemed so out of character, then again wasn't everyone because of this war?

He relaxed a little knowing that his two friends were safe, but shaken by the fact that so many innocent people especially muggles were being slaughtered, while he was doing nothing about it.

'And that concludes our program of _Potter Watch _for today, my name is River.'

'And my name's Rodent and thanks for your continued allegiance to Harry Potter, tune in next time on the same channel…the password will be Mad-Eye.'

With a faint pop their clear voices disappeared into the crackling reception again and Bill leaned forward, turning it off.

"What do you think?"

Ron stared at the radio. "Wicked," he said, amazed. "I can't believe they're doing it when it's so easy to get caught. Does mum know about it?"

Bill shook his head.

"Dad?"

"No."

They smiled at each other, happy that they'd listened to something that was still sane in the world. But then Bill's face turned serious.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"If it brings you any relief, I'm sure they're Ok," he said. "Harry and Hermione are smart; if they've survived this long then they'll keep going."

"Thanks," said Ron and he knew that Bill was right. "Do you mind if I keep the radio in here though? I…I just like listening to it regardless. It gives me piece of mind."

"Sure," he said, about to leave. "Oh I forgot…is this yours?"

Ron looked up and saw that he was holding the Deluminator in his hand.

"Where did you get that?" he asked in awe, not knowing it was actually missing.

"Fleur found it when she was washing you jeans…just watch out for it Ok?"

He'd been using it to switch the lights on and off in the room instead of the switches already provided and found it came in handy especially when he snuck off to get a midnight snack.

"Alright thanks, I will," he said, watching as Bill closed the door behind him to which he slipped it into his pocket anyway.

Christmas was now just shy of a week away and all of them had already started to prepare celebrations for just three. Bill had rung up their mother on one of those telephone muggle things that his father had installed as a wedding gift, with the guarantee that it was easier than owl post and having to Apparate over to their place. Bill tried to explain to Mrs Weasley, that they wouldn't be coming over for the family feast, because he wanted to spend it alone with Fleur, as newly weds.

"What do you mean you won't be coming, Bill?" Ron heard his mum trill over the phone. "I've got all of this food! And your father's just went to the effort of killing one of the pigs for our roast!

"I can't," said Bill, picking at a spot on the wall. "Fleur and I just want some time alone and seeing as it's our first Christmas-"

"You've had months to spend alone," she continued, sharply. "Your brothers Fred and George and even Percy will be coming. Not to mention your sister Ginny! You two haven't seen her since the wedding! And then Ron…"

Her voice lowered for a second. "I don't know when he's coming back, of course, but with you and Fleur over I was hoping you could account for his presence in a way…apparently not though."

"I'm sorry, mum," said Bill, looking at Ron who was setting up tinsel on the tree. "We'll come over New Years, I promise, by then hopefully thing would've blown over."

"I hope you do dear, take care now and say hello to Fleur for me."

"I will."

Putting the phone on the receiver, Bill kept his back to Ron as he returned to changing the shells embedded in the wall, into Christmas colours. Ron watched him quietly and couldn't help but feel guilty when he finally saw the sadness in his brother's face.

"I'm sorry you had to cancel Christmas with mum," he said, putting baubles on the tree now. "I know how much you wanted to go."

Bill smiled slightly.

"It's Ok," he shrugged. "I'll get to see everyone later on and you know how it'd be. Fred and George would be the centre attention and then we'd probably all gather around the wireless to listen to Celestina Warbeck," he rolled his eyes. "Plus Fleur doesn't really like mum's cooking, so that would've caused a bit of chaos."

"Yeah," said Ron reminiscing, he could see it all now, all of the Weaselys excluding him, Bill and Charlie sitting around the table laughing and eating. Fred and George would probably throw a stink bomb under the table and then they'd go hunt down a gnome, give it the body binding curse and use it as a Christmas angel on top of the tree. Ginny would be there too, so after the meal they'd go play Quidditch in the orchard, whilst all Mrs Weasley would be happy watching Celestina, Percy would have popped off to visit Penelope and Mr Weasley disappear into his shed to finish work on Sirius's Black's motor bike. He wished he could be there, but knew he didn't have to guts to face up to them and tell them what happened, so instead he took extra care in getting the decorations in Bill's place top notch because he was so grateful to be here.

By the end of the day, the whole house was fit for festivities with a large extravagant pine tree set into the middle of the living room nearly taking up all of the space, the hallways adorned in green, red and white tinsel with holly hanging from the lights. Fleur had turned the balustrading of the staircase into a spectacular lights work which depicted Father Christmas moving from his work shop, laden with toys and going out to houses, delivering presents. Ron watched as the Santa got into his slay and then rode off into the moon with his reindeers, throwing a handful of magic dust over his back which exploded out of the scene and showered down over the railings, disappearing before it reached the floor. He thought it was really neat and wished he could show Harry and Hermione, but of course he couldn't.

Having all of this only made Ron think of how Harry and Hermione were going to spend it and if they would even know it was Christmas after losing track of the days. He imagined them sitting in their tent, absolutely freezing as it snowed heavily outside, having nothing but some canned food that they'd stolen for dinner and nothing to celebrate with a Horcrux in their midst and their futures uncertain. Ron felt selfish that he was here and the irony was that he was the one who had deserted them and didn't deserve this, yet he was receiving it. He tried to live with the guilt, as Christmas drew near, only three days away now.

The night before Christmas Eve, Ron was sitting in the study with Bill, listening to the radio on _Potter Watch_. He'd narrowed down the times that they were broadcasting, from ten in the morning and ten at night so that he could keep up with the death count and also the secret passwords for the next programme. His brother didn't mind his presence as he did his work for Gringotts, probably because he liked the company and also listening to what was _really_ happening in the wizarding world. Fleur had been absent over the past few days and was off visiting her parents back in France. She would be returning later that evening, so the house was completely empty, except for the two of them.

'And in breaking news,' said Lee, 'it has come to our attention that Death Eaters will be enforcing a taboo on the explicit use of their masters' name. I'm sure many of you have gotten sick of saying 'You Know Who,' and 'He Who Must Not Be Named,' and have resorted to using his real name to describe him. But fair warning to our listeners! Whoever says the 'V' word, I believe will pay the consequences! As apparently its use directs Snatchers and Death Eaters straight to a person's residence or place of hiding! So warning to all, _do not_ use the Dark Lord's name in vein, or you'll be paid a visit!'

"Blimey," exclaimed Ron and the two of them exchanged worried looks, because out of all the people that this would affect, his two friends were the ones who were the least informed.

"No one's safe now. Especially Harry and Hermione, they're always saying his name, they could get caught any second now. We have to warn them…we have to tell them!"

"Hang on a minute," said Bill, calming his brother. "Don't panic yet, Lee didn't say when they were going to do it…it could be days, even weeks."

Then he gave Ron a grave look.

"Besides, haven't we been over the possible ways of contacting them? There are none. If there were, you would be gone by now…so just relax, Ok?"

Ron sunk down in his chair, and rubbed his face in frustration. Why was it always like this? Why was it that when something important presented itself, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? It was just like this whole situation that he was in. He was willing to go back, had news that could save them, yet he was here, safe and out of trouble. He just hoped on his life that Bill was right and from then on kept the radio in his room where he could keep a close ear on the Death Eaters and their new law that they might impose too quickly.

It was around five o'clock, when Fleur Apparated with a small pop on the door step, lugging a large suitcase and fancy French bags with unpronounceable names.

"Hello Ron," she chirped, as he came to help her carry them to the living room. "How 'ave you been?"

"Good," he said, placing the suitcase on the sofa. "How about you? How was your trip?"

"Eet waz lovely," she said, taking off her traveling coat. "I saw my mamma and papa and my sister Gabrielle…we 'ad a wonderful time in the snow and of 'ourse we did some shopping. Um…where is Bill?"

"He's still working on his Gringotts papers, I'll go tell him that you're here."

"Oh no, no," she said, shaking her head. "Don't bozzer him…I 'ave presents for him that I need to 'rap up. Oh and I 'ave something for you too."

Ron's ears turned pink. "Oh, thanks," he said, embarrassed as she handed him a bag. "You shouldn't have. I haven't really gotten you anything."

"Do not worry," she said, smiling. "Eetz no problem. If you like za gift that eez good enough for me. Do you 'ant to open eet now?"

Ron glanced down at the bag in his arms. "I-Is that Ok? I mean I can leave it for Christmas, really."

"No, no," she said, undoing the ribbon ties. "Try eet on now…so if eet does not fit I can adjust eet."

Setting it down on the table, he opened it and pulled out a brand new jacket which was thick with padding on the inside and had a smart red and black checkered pattern on the outside. He'd wanted a new one, since he's out grown all of his old ones and slipped it on gratefully, feeling how roomy it was.

"Thanks," he said, holding out his arms to inspect it. "It's brilliant...I needed one actually, how did you know?"

She laughed. "When I did your washing, I noticed 'ow 'orrible your old clothes were…eet was like your mother was still dressing you. So I got you a better one and if you look carefully you will see eetz made for very cold places, in case you go back to your friends."

When she said this, he looked up genuinely touched that she'd considered all of this for him and striding forward, he gave her a hug.

"Thanks, Fleur," he said against her shoulder. "It's perfect. Everything is perfect. Thank you for letting me stay."

She patted him on the head as he drew away. "Eet is Ok, you are my brozer and you deserve to be treated like this…I 'ope you like it."

"I do," said Ron, nodding vigorously. "I really do, I'll go put this in my room."

Slipping off the jacket, he folded it and placed it back in the bag, before giving her another quick squeeze and going upstairs. In his room, he hung it in the wardrobe where all his clothes and belongings were to be stored from now on.

The next day went past really slow, with Bill continuing on with his Gringott's work and Fleur busying herself in the kitchen for the evening's dinner, leaving Ron by himself. He hated being alone because that meant his mind would drift off to thinking about Harry and Hermione and comparing what he was doing to them. It became worse as it neared Christmas day as it meant it was exactly two weeks since he'd left them. Fourteen days and still no contact from them and he was starting to fear that he wouldn't ever return. He remembered what Bill had said about staying until New Years and possibly longer and how he'd hint it in the conversations they had together.

But he knew his brother was probably right, it was time to get serious, the likes of him finding a way back were pretty slim and it was time to start thinking about the future, so he did. He thought about the next few months that he'd stay with his brother and begin to form a story that he would eventually explain to his parents when he would finally decide to go see them. He considered, taking up his old room again, spending quality time with Mr and Mrs Weasley and his siblings, which would gradually settle him back into normal family life. After that he'd probably think about getting a job, he could try and work with Fred and George first, if their shop starting running again or possibly go and ask Bill for a job at Gringotts. If he was really keen, he'd go see Charlie and tame dragons, which might be fun. Then later, he'd start forming new friendships, this time with people who were a little more grounded than Harry and less interesting; whose lives centred around work, socialising and money: normal things. Once he had some of those, he'd then go searching for a girl who was totally different to Hermione, someone who had blonde straight hair, wasn't as pretty, probably less sensible and a lot less intelligent. After that came marriage, then kids…

Ron sat bolt upright, unable to stomach what reality had to offer. Getting up, his mind buzzed as all he could think of was Harry and Hermione and how his unshaped his life was going to turn out if he didn't see them again. Walking to the shore line, he tried to shake it off by going for a swim, but nearly drowned himself getting dumped in the choppy waves when he became distracted and forgot to dive under. Coughing and spluttering Ron swam back to shore and staggered out, wringing his sodden shirt as he returned to the house and slipped in through the back door, past Fleur.

Trudging back upstairs, he got changed and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was like he'd gone full circle and was back to square one in his recovery, with all his previous guilt and regret suddenly hitting him with the force of a wrecking ball. Reaching over to his bedside table, he picked up his Deluminator and flicked it on and off, watching as it sucked and spat out the light from the only source in his room, a lamp. He did this for a while, thinking all the time about Harry and Hermione, all of things that had happened during the past two weeks and tried to draw a meaning from it. Was he cut out to still be with them if he had the chance? Or were things going so smoothly that he should just forget them and enjoy a normal life?

When it was six o'clock, he heard Bill call him for dinner and stuffed his Delluminator in his pocket, before heading down.

"Eh…here he is," he laughed, slapping Ron on the back. "Come and take a seat next to me."

Sitting down besides his brother, he pulled his chair into a full banquet that Fleur had cooked with roast ham and potatoes, peas and carrots and salads: a Christmas dinner could contend with that of his mother.

"It looks fantastic Fleur," said Ron, tucking in. "I wish I could've helped."

She shook her head. "I managed, Ok. Maybe you could 'elp me for Eeaster…that will be a 'ard time to cook."

Ron stared at her for a second. "Easter?" That was four months away.

"Yees," she said, "but that eez a long time away, so you do not 'ave to panic about getting ready."

"That's right," added Bill, hacking into some steak which was extra raw. "Better mark that down in your diary…I was thinking we could go and see the dragons in Romania with Charlie, it'd be good for us to see him. Oh and then when we get back, I was hoping to get some tickets for the Ireland versus Germany Quidditch cup."

"Right," murmured Ron, gazing at the peas on his plate. "No that sounds…good."

They knew the truth, both of them did. They knew that there was no chance he'd see his two friends again and they'd accepted it, already making plans of how their lives would be together in the upcoming months. He listened to the conversation between Fleur and Bill as it dragged on from Quidditch, to repainting the house, especially _his_ room, future dinners with friends that _he_ should meet, to _him_ and Bill fixing the old shed together when it got a little warmer in summer.

All this time, he could feel the anxiety building up within himself and he did his best to hold his food down, which was coming progressively harder to consume, knowing that he'd been eating a lot more here.

After dinner, three of them went onto sit in the living room and admired the presents under the tree that were to be opened tomorrow morning. Ron saw that he had a gift from Charlie and Fleur and thanked them, apologising again for not getting them anything. The two of them said not to worry, seeing as they had enough in their house from all the wedding presents they'd recieved. Later, they viewed the _Wizarding Wireless Network_, keeping it on a channel that didn't feature Celestina Warbeck and instead watched some terrible Christmas show about two wizard teenagers helping Santa deliver presents all around the world. The two characters were a little younger than him and were a boy and girl. The boy was a bit of a joker, but at the same time determined to help, why the girl was of course level headed and smart, figuring out all of the problems. This reminded Ron terribly of his friends, why did everything have too? He couldn't even watch an unrelated movie for thirty minutes, without thinking of them. About an hour into the film, he glanced at his watch and saw that it was ten o'clock and getting up, he called it a night.

"Already?" asked Bill, looking at the clock on the wall. "But it's only ten, don't you want to stay for the carols…later on we were going to have some egg nog."

Ron shook his head. "No thanks, I would love to, but I'm a bit knackered from today's swim. I'll see you in the morning though…oh and it was brilliant dinner Fleur, well done."

"Thank you," she replied, visibly touched. "I am glad you enjoyed it. Well good night then, 'ave a good sleep."

"I will," he said and waved at his brother, whose eyes were glued to the wireless. Going upstairs, he got a face full of magic dust from the Santa who rode away on his slay, but didn't stop and continued on, closing the door behind him. Patting the sparkles out, he flopped onto his bed and lay there in the dark, watching the moonlight project dancing shadows across his wall.

After a while, he fell into a light sleep only to be woken by Bill and Fleur who were stomping up the stairs and talking in loud voices. By the sounds of their conversation the two of them were a little intoxicated. Listening, he waited until they'd made it to their room, which he assumed was difficult, because once or twice his brother walked into the wall and let out a groan. Ron smiled and wondered what he would be like in the morning, with a hangover on Christmas Day.

Once again, it was dead quiet and now awake, Ron felt strangely alone, with nothing but the wind buffeting his windows to keep him company. Looking over at his bed side table, he saw the outline of his radio and pulling it over onto his chest, he tapping it and muttering, "Krum," the new password.

Immediately he heard the voice of his other brother, Fred talking and held the radio tighter, imagining how the twins were spending the night. On the dial, he saw that it was already one thirty and thinking of Harry and Hermione, he muttered, "Merry Christmas, guys."

He placed the radio beside him and keeping his head clear, listened to the latest Death Eater movements and laughed at the jokes Fred and Lee told involving Snape and Christmas. But then, all of a sudden, a voice spoke, clear and pronounced and said his name, "Ron."

He sat bolt upright looking around, but there was no one there, just an empty room. Yet he was sure he'd heard something.

Then it came again, this time more distinctive, it was high and familiar.

"…when he broke his wand?"

His stomach crawled and his heart raced, he knew who that voice, it was Hermione's!

And it wasn't coming from outside or from the radio, which had suddenly switched off, but instead from his pocket. Shoving his hand in, he slowly pulled out the Deluminator and stared at it. Could her voice had seriously come out of there? Or was he just dreaming it? All it did was switch lights on and off.

He scrutinized it for a second in the moonlight, its sliver covering shining. It didn't look any different, maybe he needed more light, so he flicked its top and instead of his lamp illuminating the room, there was suddenly a flash of light and suddenly he saw the strangest thing. Outside of his window, bobbing just above the sill was a small ball of blue light, which was pulsing feverishly. Ron gazed at it and getting off his bed slowly, he walked towards it, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. As soon as he neared it, the light drifted away from the window as if it was trying to beckon him out and it was then that he understood. It was the light that was going to guide him, the light that was going to take him to Hermione. With one quick glance at it, he ran for his ruck sack and wrenching open his wardrobe, began to stuff all of his belongings in. When he got to Fleur's coat, he pulled it on knowing she would have wanted him to wear it for this occasion and then grabbing his wand, headed for the door. Sneaking down the stairs, he was just about to head out of the kitchen door when he remembered that in about six hours' time Fleur and Bill would wake up and find him suddenly gone. Looking around desperately, he found a piece of paper and a pencil and quickly scrawled down a message describing his unexpected departure.

'_Dear Bill and Fleur,_

_Sorry I had to leave, especially on Christmas day, but there was finally an opportunity for me to find them again and I couldn't ignore it. The whole story is hard to explain, but the chance came from magic that Dumbledore invented, so with him anything is possible. Don't worry about me, I'm going to be fine and once again I'm sorry I had to leave so soon. Thank you so much for looking after me these past few weeks and understanding everything when I was a mess, words can't describe my gratitude, because the two of you have always been good to me. So thank you again and Merry Christmas._

_Cheers,_

_Ron_.'

He didn't even had time to write his name properly before when he found himself rushing out of the back door and towards the garden which his bedroom looked over. Staring up, he saw the blue ball, hover down towards him and linger there for a second as if analysing him before moving away.

"Hey," he said and he followed it as it drifted across the courtyard and behind the shed next to the fence. Hefting his ruck sack slightly, Ron edged his way into the small space, using the shed walls to lever himself across the piles of fire wood Bill had stacked at its entrance. When he'd climbed over it, the ball of light which was a few metres away, started to glide towards him. Ron back away slightly and held his breathe as he watched it come close, near the left of his chest and then amazingly it passed through him, right into his heart.

At first it didn't hurt, but once it was inside, he felt an intense burning and gave out a gasp. Before his eyes, there was a vivid flash of green which defined into a grassy hill side where it was snowing and with that he felt suddenly drawn to it. Then it occurred to him that, that was where Harry and Hermione were, that's where the light was going to take him. Keeping the image in his head, he raised his wand and Disappeared, feeling his body distort and stretch whilst all the time, the white ball was hot in his chest.

Then suddenly, it stopped and he found himself on that same grassy hill that'd been on his mind before. It was only still a while after midnight, the moon a watery yellow curtained behind the patchy clouds which had turned a rich silver colour. All around his, it was snowing now and seeing the movement of flakes falling, he murmured, "Lumos", his wand lighting up. This didn't help much with the visibility, so he slowly followed the curve of hill down to where it was flat and tried to visualised what he remember of the picture: down about here they'd be a forest.

Walking forward, he felt leaves brush past him, so he held his wand close to his face, his surroundings coming into better view.

He weaved his way through the trees, getting deeper into the forest where he knew Harry and Hermione would be, he could feel it in his chest, this was where they were likely to camp for the best coverage. Soon he came to centre of the wood, where there was a large clear and flat space, perfect for a tent.

"Harry?" he called out circling around the trees. "Hermione?"

There was no answer, just the sound of trees rustling and a bird's cry. So he tried again, walking across the site, to the left, the right whilst the whole time shouting out their names. Several times, he'd bumped into trees, cutting himself on sticks and grazing himself on the bark.

After two hours of doing this, it had started to get colder and despite Fleur's jacket that he had on, his body was beginning to feel the chill. Panting, he decided to call it a night even though he wanted to continue on and turned back, trudging up the hill. When he was on top of it, he found a shelter spot between two boulders and taking out his sleeping bag, slipped into it and listened to his teeth chatter. The first rays of sun had begun to rise now and from where he was lying, Ron could see the clearing he'd just come from, so in essence he would be able to watch out for Harry and Hermione leaving in the morning.

So he sat there and watched that spot for the whole day, getting up now and then to stretch and go to the toilet, his eyes constantly on the camping site even when he began to drift off to sleep.

But to his disappointment throughout the day he didn't see them, not one glimpse, yet being determined, he continued to wait until it started to get dark.

"I missed them," he said under his breathe. "How could I miss them?"

When everything had started to go well, it now looked like it was beginning to fall apart and Ron soon felt the anxiety start to escalate within him. Feeling for his pocket, he took out the Deluminator and pressed it against his lips whispering, "Tell me what to do."

And then, he flicked the switch, not expecting anything to happen, but it did. The same blue ball blossomed out and he stood up, following it as it rose up. He quickly, packed his ruck sack and sleeping bag and then stood still before the ball, which hovered up and down slightly as if to nod at him, moved into his chest again.

He felt it seer next to his heart and then sure enough there was a flash and a new scene came into view, showing a flattened landscape with a forest shrouded in darkness and with that he Disparated again. Soon enough, he arrived on a rocky outcrop that was on the edge of that same forest, sloping in. By now, the sun had gone and it was substantially dark, as he hopped down and lighting his wand, wasted no time looking for them. As he jogged through, the land dipped and rose, making his footing uneasy as he tried to pass trees and bushes quickly. He had no idea where he was going except for this sense within him, which drove him deeper into the wood. As he walked, he could feel the cold pressing against his skin and felt the ground thicken as he began to tread where snow was.

"Where are you?" he murmured gazing around, the wood which look all the same. "Come on."

He pushed himself, through a low lying bramble bush, just before he saw a movement up a head of him and ducked unsure of whether it was person or an animal. Peering out, he saw that it was indeed an animal, in fact a female dear, however it didn't look normal but instead kind of wispy like it was a ghost.

But at the same time it wasn't, it seemed more solid and was bluish silver in colour, like his ball of light and then it finally hit him; it was a Patronus! But whose? It seemed familiar to him and then he remembered the first one he'd ever seen, the most common one he saw being cast, it was Harry's! Although it did look slightly different, a lot smaller.

He felt like shouting out in joy, but he didn't want to blow his cover so instead he watched as it trotted forward, its hooves making no noise on the ground. Keeping to the trees, he followed it for a while until he heard footsteps behind him and quickly turned around, his wand raised. He was starting to do this instinctively now. Following the Patronas too, but directly behind it was a dark figure of what looked like a man, his wand brandished as he walking a few more steps and then stopped. Looking through some low lying branches, Ron could see that the doe had too but instead was standing before a large frozen pool.

Then suddenly and before his eyes, she began to disappear and the figure must have sensed her fading too, for he then ignited his wand to compensate for the loss of visibility.

The small amount of light cast by the spell was enough to illuminate the man's features and Ron saw the distinctive glasses that belonged to his friend, Harry. Smiling he felt like running out and shouting, "I'm here," but suddenly his friend pointed his wand in his direction and he ducked, as Harry looked to see who was there. Watching, Ron saw as he wiped the frost from the ice and kneeling down he peered into the water, a sudden glint showing that there was something within the pools depths.

"Accio, sword," Harry murmured as he stood up again and he directed his wand at the ice, but nothing happened. Why would he say 'sword'? The reason, confused Ron, but what was even more bizarre was what was about to unfold in the next few moments.

Harry took a step back for a moment and then looked around, before he started taking off his jumper and clothing.

"What the hell?" said Ron quietly, shaking his head in disbelief, when Harry had finally stripped to his underwear. "What are you doing mate?"

Against his chest, Ron could see he was wearing the locket and wondered why he wasn't going to take that off too as he moved towards the frozen pool and said.

"Diffindo."

There was a cracking sound like a bullet and the ice opened up, a small hole forming within its surface. Glancing at it, Harry took a deep breath and then to Ron's shock plunged in.

"Is he mental?" he said, staring at the place him friend had disappeared and waited a moment for Harry to come up for air. But he didn't, seconds soon turned into a near minute and it was then that Ron realised something had gone wrong. His heart racing, he threw off his ruck sack and burst through the bushes towards the pool, where nothing but bubbles were rising to the surface.


End file.
